The long metal cart they found in the cafeteria was once used for hauling around lunches. Now it served as a butcher block. The slab of meat Daryl was hacking at no longer resembled a deer. His hands were slippery with blood. He cleaned them on his red rag and stuffed the square of dingy fabric back into his pocket. He wiped a lock of hair away from his sweat-slicked face with his wrist.
"Tha's a damn nice kill, lil' brother. Wonder who taught you all that."
Merle's voice echoed off the prison walls. Daryl disregarded the snide remark. He was facing the opposite direction of Merle's cell, but he could practically feel his spiteful glare burning two holes in his back. Maggie and Glenn were off on a mission to bring back a table cloth. Daryl thought the item futile but quickly realized how much it must have meant to the Greenes—and everyone else, for that matter—to use one. Carol was preparing the stew with Beth. Rick and Carl were tending to the baby. Hershel was with them. He didn't care where Axel was, as long as he stayed away from Carol, or any of the women for that matter.
Suddenly a loud, obnoxious rattling triggered Daryl's knife to slip. He narrowly avoided slicing his finger. He swore under his breath.
"When d'you think Rick'll lemme outta this damned cage an' stop treatin' me like a dog?"
"When you done your time, brother." Daryl muttered.
"Don' you tell me 'bout doin' my time. I done my time an' more." Merle sneered.
Daryl spun around to face his sibling.
"You seen Glenn lately? He's still black an' blue."
Merle smirked. His smile was tiny and triumphant, as if he were an artist and Glenn's face—from his split lip to the clouds of purple on his cheek to his still-slightly-swollen eye—was his greatest masterpiece. Daryl turned away again, busying himself in cleaving meat from bone. Merle's smirk died.
"Don' you turn away from me! I'm talkin' t' you!"
"You ain't talkin'. Jus' tryin' t' piss me off."
"Come on, lil' brother. I'm on your side. I always been on your side. But you ain't the same as you was when I las' saw ya. Don' know if I like it."
Merle's voice dropped and his grip on the bars tightened. His knuckles went pale. Daryl bit down hard onto the soft spongy skin of his tongue to keep anything stupid from escaping his lips.
"I spent so long tryin' t' make a man outta you, Daryl. Now you jus' their damned errand boy."
Daryl flinched as déjà vu assailed him. Back at the Greene farm, when Daryl was bucked from that damned horse and thrown off that cliff, he'd experienced vivid hallucinations of Merle, who'd told him the exact same things. He chuckled to himself. He still knew Merle, but Merle barely knew him. The corners of his lips twitched up in satisfaction.
"I'm protectin' and providin' for my group. If that makes me less of a man, so be it."
"Protectin' and providin's one thing. But these fools have you thinkin' I'm the bad guy here. An' that damned woman…"
Daryl paused. He felt his spine go rigid, like a spooked cat on the defense.
"What about her?"
Daryl's voice was harsh and his words came out slightly louder than he'd expected. He found himself in the clutches of a wave of uneasiness. Merle was smiling. He knew it. He could feel it. It was a toothy smile; a smile from a mouth that had spoken many secrets and had one more to offer.
"Seems like you don' trus' ole Merle no more. Took me a while t' come t' terms with that. But fine. Go ahead. Defy me. See if I care. It'll be your loss, after all."
Daryl hesitated, the knife wavering over a hunk of meat. He brought it down stiffly.
"I don' know what you're talkin' 'bout."
Merle burst into a fit of strained, hoarse laughter.
"Like hell you don't! Don' play stupid with me. I seen the necklace. Seen it the day you took it from that damned house! Seen it again, jus' this mornin', an' I think you know where."
There was the clang of metal on metal as Daryl brought the knife down hard, severing the leg clean from the body, chopping through the bone with one swift motion. He whirled around, holding the bloodied blade out accusingly.
"That ain't none o' your business!" he yelled. He could feel his frustration tingling in his fingertips, working its way up his body and blotting out his thoughts. It barred his mind from thinking straight. Threats and curses burned in the back of his throat.
"The hell you mean, none o' my business? You're my goddamned brother! I'm the only family you got! An' I ain't gonna lose you to some useless, old, washed-out housewife!" Merle bellowed. Daryl's eyes were wide with shock as he stared at his enraged sibling. Merle breathed heavily. Daryl noticed his brother's hand trembling with ire; his pale knuckles curled around a single iron bar. And then, a metal door clicked closed. He glanced over his shoulder. He was almost afraid of who he'd see.
Carol.
Fuck. He thought, and before he knew it, his head had dropped in defeat. The hurt he saw reflected in her eyes killed him. How much had she heard? It didn't matter. She'd heard enough. The damage was done.
"I was just comin' in to see if the meat was ready."
Her voice was tiny and meek. She stared at her feet, fingers shyly tracing the bones in her wrist. Daryl extracted the red rag from his pocket as Carol walked over, her gait desolate. There was no sway in her hips. The bold woman that had planted a daring kiss on his lips just hours prior was gone; obliterated by Merle's destructive words.
"It is." He replied. His tone of voice was icy; venomous. He shoved past her, thrusting the bloody rag into her hands as he did so. She staggered, his force knocking her from her center of balance. There was a sore lump forming in her throat. The longer she suppressed it, the rawer it felt. A silenced Merle backed away, retreating into the shadows of his cell, like some kind of spider that spun schemes instead of webs. He was proud, and it sickened her.
.:|:.
At first it stunned him, waves of shock rippling through his body as he recoiled at the sensation of frigid water rushing down his back. After a while, he felt rather numb to it.
Little goosebumps rose up and down his arms. He hugged his knees and stared at the opposite wall. An eerie red tinge stared back at him: the ghost of a bloodstain. He restrained a shudder. He remembered Carol and how he'd stuffed his rag into her hands and stormed away, nearly heaving her to the ground. At the time he felt that was all he could do. Merle's words made him boil. Made his heartbeat accelerate and pump seething blood through his veins. But when he saw her there, dispirited eyes cast down at the floor, he crumbled. Knowing that his own brother inflicted that pain into her pushed him over the edge. He couldn't lash out at Merle. So he lashed out at Carol. And now he hated himself for it.
He heard the familiar creak of a door being opened, and the soft thud of it closing proceeded.
"I'm almos' done!"
In reality, he didn't even bother standing up. Just sat there in the corner, slumped over, and let the bitter prison water stream down his face and pummel against his shoulder. Then the heard soft footsteps padding towards his shower stall. He braced his feet against the rickety plastic of the stall door, knowing the rusty hinges wouldn't hold against a determined walker.
But it wasn't a walker at all. It was Carol. He pulled his legs away, folding them in a way so that he was covered and kept his eyes on her feet. He'd noticed the dirt lined under her toenails. She stepped in, taken aback by the cold sprays of water that jumped out to greet her, and mirrored Daryl's position on the opposite wall. She didn't notice the pinkish stain. Daryl didn't feel the urge to point it out, either.
"Don' bother. Hot water's broken." He warned, gesturing up at the shower head. She gave a feeble smile in response and reached up, twisting the nozzle from 'hot' to 'cold'. Several seconds eloped and the icy edge in the water had been blunted. Several more and his goosebumps had descended back into his skin.
"Sorry 'bout what Merle said. You weren't exactly s'pposed t' hear that. He don't mean it. Jus' angry, is all." He explained. His blue irises barely peeked out between his narrowed eyes. Carol shook her head softly.
"No, he meant every word."
Daryl sighed. His head dropped, his cheek planted against his shoulder. Carol extended her arm towards his face and swept a lock of wet hair from his line of vision, tucking it behind his ear as best she could.
"Why did you take me with you, Daryl? You knew this would happen."
Carol's question rang in his ears a while before he mustered another deep breath. Daryl was never the kind of person to discuss his feelings or try to untangle them. Answering Carol's inquiry would entail just that.
"I know what I told you, 'bout tryin' our hardest t' keep Merle in the dark. An' that…that jus' made me wanna get out with you even more."
He swallowed hard, and Carol could do nothing but stare at him, astounded, not knowing what to do or say. She'd never seen him like this. He was so defeated and forlorn sounding. His drawl was thicker. His throat was tight with emotion. Carol exhaled deeply and tilted forward. Daryl looked up at her. Hesitantly, but he did. She offered him a sympathetic hand. To her surprise, he accepted it, her pale fingers suddenly enclosed in his. She slid over, nudging her head into the crook of his shoulder. Her hair was saturated with stagnant water. He could nearly taste the tarnished pipes as little droplets leaked in through the crack in his lips.
Daryl drew her in intimately, her warm skin pressed against his, until he could inhale her breath. It was still sweet with the sugar of the blackberries she'd picked at dawn. Carol cherished every second of their embrace. She had never felt so protected and loved before. She felt his head shift, felt the tip of his nose nuzzled in her hair. She rose to meet his gaze. He leaned in reluctantly, all but closing the gap that separated them. She felt her eyelids drift together until she saw naught but blackness, heard naught but water pounding against the tiles and their bodies, felt nothing but a tickle of breath against her lips. And then he pulled away, separating himself from her and scooting back into his corner. Her eyes snapped open. He could not bring himself to face her.
"What are you so afraid of?" she asked, although it came out more callous than she'd meant it to.
He neglected to regard her question. He opted to omit her wistful voice from his mind.
"Fuck, Carol, you don' deserve this!" he cried, swatting at the air. "You shouldn' hafta settle for me, jus' 'cause I'm the only son of a bitch around who ain't got no one else."
"I don't understand-"
"Of course you do! I can't do shit for you. I can protect you an' feed you, but I can't love you. I dunno how. I can't even kiss you."
The emotion that strangled his voice wrenched Carol's heart. But then a small smile spread across her lips. She took his chin gently in her hand. At first, he tried to flinch away from her touch. But then he relaxed.
"Yes, you can." She whispered, and his brow crinkled. "Try."
Seconds ticked by, occupied only by thought. Then he lunged forward and kissed her. Deeply—passionately, even. His tongue prodded at hers. She wondered if her mouth would be sore later. Even if it was, she wouldn't care.
She rolled over onto him, breaking their lips apart. She noticed something in his eyes she hadn't seen in a long time—confidence. Real confidence: the kind that radiates through your skin.
"Not this time." He growled. Thus Carol found herself underneath him once more. And as they writhed together in the steam, only one word echoed through Carol's mind.
Finally.
.:|:.
As swiftly as it had started, it was then over. They were a breathless heap, panting heavily in the vapor, the water rinsing the sweat from their faces and bodies. Daryl's hand was hot on her stomach. His head rested above her lungs. He listened to her hammering heartbeat. Felt her inhale and exhale. Carol stroked his hair, scrunching it in her fingers. At last she spoke.
"Wasn't so hard, was it?"
"Nah. Not really."
Still, he sounded unsure. She grinned. He didn't notice. He wasn't looking at her face. His mind was somewhere distant.
"Don't have a long history with the ladies, huh?"
Daryl's frame shook in mock laughter.
"Naw. Merle was the one bringin' home the women. Had a crush on this one girl when I was 'bout Carl's age, maybe a lil' older. Think I jus' liked her tits, though."
Carol's grin widened in amusement.
"What about mine?" she asked, poking his arm.
"Yeah. I like all of you."
Carol giggled, and like that they stayed for several more moments before she squirmed out from under Daryl's body. He moved over to allow her to escape.
"Wha's wrong?"
"Shouldn' stay much longer. Gonna come lookin' for us pretty soon. Wouldn't wanna be caught like this."
Daryl nodded in agreement. He helped her climb to her feet, her dainty frame still shaking like a leaf. She turned one final time before taking her leave.
"Hey," she whispered, settling her hand onto his chest. "Thank you."
"Wasn't nothin'." He insisted, shaking his head. She hesitated, not wanting to depart. Eventually she conjured the strength to tear herself away.
She threw her shirt over her head. Her pants proved slightly tricky to slip on, for her legs were still slightly wet, but she managed to slide into them. She rubbed the towel over her head wildly. Fortunately her hair was short and dried rather quickly. Then she bundled up a few more towels in her arms, leaving one for Daryl, and headed out into Cell Block C. If anyone asked, she was just doing laundry.
.:|:.
Dinner was wonderful. Even Daryl, who most of the time ate only to please Carol, went back for seconds, which made her beam. Few words were spoken over the course of their meal, apart from the obligatory praise ("This is fantastic, Carol. Really." and "This deer is a godsend, Daryl."), until Merle spoke up. Carol watched as Glenn's fingers tensed around his spoon. The hatred that blazed in the boy's eyes every time he even thought of Merle was astonishing.
"I was thinkin'…I been cooped up in there a mighty long time, an' I sure would like to stretch my legs s'more."
Rick swallowed a mouthful of warm broth and wiped his lips and chin with his sleeve.
"Are you suggesting we set you free?" was his curt reply. Merle confirmed the assumption with a nod. Glenn's disapproval was blatant as he stared intensely at Rick.
"I don't think that's a good idea." He resolved at last, and relief washed over Glenn's battered face. Merle's muscles tightened in anger. Carol snuck a glance at Daryl. He was on edge. Merle looked poised to lunge at Rick's throat. Any sudden movements would send Daryl's hand grasping for his knife. He wouldn't kill his brother, but he wasn't opposed to the idea of holding the blade at his throat should he try anything stupid. Then, Merle relaxed.
"Well, why the hell not? I'd be a good boy. Be on my best behavior, I would. Won't cause you a bit o' trouble. Daryl here'll make sure o' that."
Damn straight I would.
But Daryl didn't say that. He didn't want to accidentally covey the message that he was vouching for Merle's release. He wasn't.
Rick shook his head.
"You understand you will never be completely forgiven for what you did to Glenn, no matter what you do?"
Merle's eyes shifted uncomfortably.
"I do."
"And that we can never fully trust you, either?"
"I do."
Rick gave an exasperated sigh.
"We'll talk it over."
Then he scooted out from the table, the chair legs making obnoxious squeaks as they were dragged across the floor.
"Thank you for dinner, Carol, Daryl."
And the mention of those two names together made Merle's skin crawl.
.:|:.
The bowls had been scoured and everybody felt particularly lazy as they lounged around, letting the stew digest. Beth rubbed her stomach thoughtfully. It was swollen with venison, canned vegetables and salty broth. Carl twirled a bullet in between his fingers.
"You know what would be really nice for desert right now?"
Carl groaned, knowing the answer.
"I told you, Beth: I don't have any Snickers bars. But in about a week or so, we're gonna need more formula for Judy, so I'm gonna take Carol on a run. An' when I do, I'm gonna bring you back two Snickers bars."
"Two?" asked Beth, her brow wrinkled in confusion. "Why two?"
"One for being right," Carl explained, a ray of fading sunlight glinting off the metal bullet. "And one for being extra right."
"Extra right?"
"Mmm-hmm."
"How so?"
Carl's gaze probed around the room, and then all the windows and doorways. Then he put the bullet in his pocket and ushered Beth closer.
"Can you keep a secret?" he asked, his voice hushed. She nodded. He smirked.
"I saw them kissing. Just this morning, right after they got back."
Beth's eyes practically bulged out of her skull and she cupped a hand over her mouth to hide a wide, toothy grin.
"They didn't know I was there. I was kinda…spying. But Beth—you can't tell anyone, ever. If Daryl found out…" Carl gave a shudder, not needing to finish his statement. Beth understood.